


It's Good to Have Friends in High Places

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: RED (2010), The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into this time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Good to Have Friends in High Places

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into the Expendables-- just feeding my growing addiction! (Random title is random.)

“This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into this time.”

Barney shoots a glare his way.

“I think that blow to the head must have knocked a few screws loose, Christmas, if you think this is my fault. Should definitely get that checked out.”

“I don’t think it’s your fault; I know it’s your fault.” He tests the strength of the handcuffs, out of sight of their captors. Still no give and the blood from his raw wrists aren’t providing much help, more irritating than anything else. There’s always the option of dislocating his thumbs but he’d rather save anything involving his hands as a last resort. 

“Just because I’m seeing two of your ugly mug doesn’t mean I don’t recognize a Barney Ross FUBAR when it drops itself in our laps.”

“Aw sweetheart,” Barney drawls and Lee rolls his eyes hard (which does nothing good for the ugly pounding in his head). “You always say the nicest things.”

“It’s definitely you who should get his head checked,”

“Enough!” The large burly Russian cuts them off, his accent thickened with frustration. He clenches large hands on the metal table between them that bizarrely remind Lee of bear paws. Just as big and just as vicious. He’s already felt what those hands can do when they were grabbed just inside the compound they’re now stuck in. Still, he doubts that the Russian could take Gunner in a fight—too slow, too dumb. Its sheer bad timing that they’d managed to grab the pair. Next to him Barney chuckles. “I think you are missing the point.”

“I thought we had a pretty good understanding.” He shares a glance with Barney who nods along. “Aside from coming to a decision about whose fault this whole mess is.”

“Bloody Americans.” The burly Russian spits. He reaches for his gun, stopped only by the small, mousy man sitting next to him. He’s quiet; sharp eyes trained on the Expendables handcuffed to a pair of metal chairs, bolted to the floor of a dim interrogation room. Lee forces himself not to tense. It’s always the bloody quiet ones that wind up being the ones to watch for.

“I’m not American.” He protests to keep the dialogue going, to keep them distracted, to kill time until the cavalry could either find them or they could find a way out.

“Here we go again.” Barney chimes in right on cue. Out of the corner of his eye Lee catches Barney straining a little harder against the restraints, the corded muscles in his arms as distracting as they always are.

“Well if people got it right the first time,”

“I’m sure they’re terribly sorry they didn’t realize you’re from London,”

“Antwerp.” Lee stresses because why the hell not—the place had been on the news before they’d left for this fucked up mission and it’s not like these guys were going to fact check.

“What the hell is that?” Barney gives the two Russians a look as though to say ‘you see what I have to put up with?’

Lee opens his mouth ready to continue his rant when suddenly the mousy Russian is around the table, the sharp bite of a blade barely nicking the thin skin over his jugular. He barely saw the man move. The mousy little man watches silently as the fucking butcher knife in his hand draws blood—Lee holds perfectly still, muscles tense as he stares up at the Russian. There’s a manic glint in the man’s eyes as he tracks the thin stream of blood’s path down Lee’s neck as it disappears into the collar of his black shirt. 

“Not so much to say now, hmm?” His gaze flickers momentarily up to Lee’s before returning to the knife. This is the kind of man that will spend hours, days, working you over with a knife and still wants more. 

“Hey!” Barney strains against the cuffs, voice hard, dangerous. Lee is careful not to turn his head, to give in to the temptation to see Barney infuriated-- eyes bright with rage.

The door to the interrogation room swings open. For one brief breathtaking moment Lee actually believes that somehow this mission will actually end easily; then he realizes it’s not Toll or Gunner at the door. Instead there’s another Russian man, older than the first two—a little older than Barney maybe. He’s dressed in furs, cheeks rosy under his beard as he beams at the occupants of the room.

“My friends!” Says the man with glee. Immediately the mousy Russian steps away taking his blade with him and Lee relaxes a fraction. The older man throws his arms out in an inviting motion, claps the burly Russian on the shoulder and then gestures for him to undo the cuffs on them. Barney doesn’t take the burly Russian out once the cuffs fall away but Lee can tell he wants to. Instead he tries to hide his bewilderment. 

“I am sorry about the mix up.” The man says with a wide grin. “You should have said you were friends of Frank.” 

Lee works the kinks out of his shoulders and then quickly checks his raw wrists—they’re not too bad.

“Who’s Frank?” Barney mutters as they’re ushered from the room. Lee shrugs, feels Barney’s shoulder brush his own—the closest they’ll get to a reassuring touch in the current situation. 

“I am Ivan.” The older Russian explains as they’re lead through a series of cement tunnels. Lee briefly considers attempting to overpower the three men and chance the maze of concrete tunnels on their own and whatever else may be out there, but a shared glance with Barney has him agreeing they should wait and see how it plays out.

“Nice to meet you Ivan.” Lee reaches up to prod gently at the tacky trail of blood down the side of his face. It stings but the bleeding has stopped for the moment. “It was a real nice welcome your boys gave us.”

“Shouldn’t have tried to break in,” Ivan replies cheerfully. “No matter now, all has been cleared up.”

The cement abruptly ends in a barred door that Ivan quickly pushes through. Bright light blinds them and Lee stumbles to a halt, unsure of what’s awaiting them on the other side. Someone prods him and he considers resisting but Barney’s hand lands on his shoulder, guides him forwards and he trusts Barney with his life, two more steps isn’t such a big deal.

His fingers itch for the reassuring weight of a blade, a gun, anything that could give them an advantage.

“Christ—I leave you guys alone for five minutes and look at the mess you get into.” 

Lee blinks away the spots dancing across his vision and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

“I think I’d prefer torture over this.” He murmurs and Barney hums in agreement. Church either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him, smirking as they’re led over to where the spook is waiting with the rest of their team. Caesar’s waiting in the front seat of a shiny new SUV, looking a little worse for wear but still chatting away with Toll positioned nearby, armed and ready for whatever the universe deigns to throw at them today. Gunner approaches Ivan and his men, noticeably sizing up the burly Russian. 

“Sorry boss,” their Swedish giant manages to tear his eyes off the Russian when it becomes clear that no one’s really planning on starting anything. “He just showed up out of the blue.”

“Easiest way to get you guys out.” Toll adds but doesn’t bother coming any closer.

“You guys somehow always manage to fuck up the most basic of missions.” Church sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You should stick to what the CIA gives you—your pal Tool fucked up with this one.”

“We’ll try better next time.” Barney snarks. Church ignores him—like he seems to do with most of what they say and address Ivan, holding his hand out. 

“Ivan—I owe you one.” 

The Russian laughs and, ignoring the proffered hand, sweeps Church into a quick, tight hug.

“A favour from Frank Moses,” he guffaws and Lee has to wonder if this man has any other setting than delighted. “I will cherish it.”

“Who the hell is Frank?” Gunner chimes in. Church winces.

“Well,” Barney drawls, hands coming to rest on his belt, relaxed, cocky—Lee just wants to get him home and enjoy the post mission adrenaline. “Looks like you actually have a name.”

“You’re going to forget that you’ve ever heard of Frank Moses,” Church takes a step forwards, posture threatening and Lee finds himself reacting, tensing—but he stops himself from stepping between the two men, Barney can handle himself. 

“Maybe,” Barney replies, undaunted. “If we’re even. No owing you anything from this op or any others. The slates clean.”

Church hesitates, muscle in his jaw jumping. 

“Do we have a deal?” Barney prods, hand extended. 

The other man deflates abruptly and grabs Barney’s hand, shaking it quickly like he can’t quite believe he’s agreeing to this. 

“Ah yes, I always forget how much you American’s treasure your plausible deniability and your code names.” Ivan muses. He rubs his hands together; perhaps to warm them against the slight chill gathering in the air as clouds, heavy with snow, begin to roll in overhead. “Cooper does so enjoy it.”

Church rolls his eyes and takes a step back headed for the SUV. 

“Yeah a little too much.” He calls over his shoulder. “Give my love to Victoria.”

Ivan waves them off and Lee takes it as his cue to herd Barney into the vehicle before this entire surreal experience changes again and they somehow end up in another gun fight. Toll climbs into the back with Gunner, leaving the middle seats for Barney and Lee—it’s an easy line of sight from the driver’s seat that Church has already claimed which doesn’t leave much wiggle room, but Lee has worked with worse. He uses the blind spot to tangle their feet together, and relaxes as Barney slings his arm over the back of the seat. He soaks up the heat coming off the other man in an attempt to release some of the tension that has built up over the past few days—it’s a losing battle. It won’t be until they’re home, on their own turf that he’ll really start to unwind, but it helps having Barney next to him.

He meets Church’s gaze in the rear view mirror. The man snorts, but Caesar shoots him a quelling look so he doesn’t comment. Lee chooses to take a page out of his book and ignore him. Barney’s hand drops down to rub soothingly at the back of his neck and he sighs and leans into the touch, the heat working its way through his body.

It’s going to be a long trip home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover with Red that I've had in mind for a while-- and it may just grow into an even larger 'verse, we'll see!
> 
> (Also I was watching Snatch the other day-- hence Antwerp.)


End file.
